


Horrors and Hilarity: Hannictober 2016

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Food, Ghosts, Halloween, Hannictober, Haunting, M/M, Vampires, rampant pumpkin eating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8197439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: As Ministry once said, "Every day is Halloween."





	1. A Haunting

**Author's Note:**

> Each "chapter" is a response to the daily prompts for [#Hannictober](http://the-winnowing-wind.tumblr.com/post/150694322404/hannictober-2016-creative-calendar). Some will be serious, some will be my more trademark crackfic. Additional tags to come, probably.

Prompt: Ghosts/Ghostbusting

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Will met the ghost, he was still sleeping off the anesthesia from having his face and skull patched up. So, naturally, he assumed the apparition was a figment of his imagination.

“Oh, I’m quite real,” the ghost said, sounding posh and English to Will's ears.

“I’ve had a lot of hallucinations in my time,” Will said, “and you’re not even one of the better ones.”

“You _wound_ me, Mr. Graham!” The ghost smiled at him, blue eyes twinkling beneath the silver-shot fringe of his hair. “I’ll come back when you wake up, and prove I’m not an imaginary friend.”

“I don’t have friends,” Will snorted, but the ghost was already gone.

The next time he met the ghost, Will was making coffee in his little kitchen.

“I haven’t properly introduced myself,” the ghost said. “Although you may have already guessed—I’m Anthony Dimmond.”

Will frowned at him. He was tall, nattily dressed, with a face that looked younger than his graying hair would suggest. He straddled that fine line between “pretty” and “handsome,” and possessed an air of confidence that said he damned well knew it.

“Am I supposed to recognize you?” Will asked.

Dimmond gave himself a playful slap to the forehead. “How forgetful of me! Of course you don’t recognize me like this.” He snapped his fingers.

Dimmond’s skin peeled away from his body to reveal pink muscle, and his head dropped from his shoulders to the floor with a wet, heavy thud. As Will watched in horror, Dimmond’s limbs crunched and broke. Sinews stretched and strained as he folded himself up into an origami heart.

“Look more familiar?” his head asked from the floor.

Will nodded, his throat suddenly too dry to speak.

When he blinked, Dimmond had reconstituted himself, head and all, and was giving him a serious look.

“Listen,” the ghost said, “we need to talk about Hannibal Lecter.”

“Wh–what about him?” Will managed to ask.

“He’s going to haunt you, too.”

“Hannibal’s alive,” Will said, trying his best to sound dismissive. “I know exactly where he’s going to be.”

Dimmond gave him a warm smile, almost pitying. “You think you’re going to say goodbye to him, that he’ll leave you alone. But Will, take it from someone who stood in for you when he missed you so very terribly: even if you never see him again, he will haunt you.”

“It’s the only way,” Will said. “I have to tell him goodbye.”

“You know how he’s going to react to that,” Dimmond said.

“Yes,” Will said. “That’s why I have to do it.”

Dimmond sighed. “Then I hope you’re prepared to see him every day for the rest of your life.” Will flinched as the ghost reached up and gently tapped the side of his head, then laid his ethereally cold hand over his heart. “Here…and _here_ …”

Will blinked again and the ghost was gone, just like that. The kitchen around him swirled into nothingness, like water disappearing down a dark drain. He felt himself being tugged backwards, as if through time, skipping over the hospital room he’d never occupied and the reparative surgery he hadn’t yet had. Time creaked forward again.

When he woke up, he was in his own bed, in the familiar corner of his living room, with Hannibal keeping vigil in a chair at his side.

Hannibal asked, “Do we talk about teacups and time and the rules of disorder?”


	2. To Dine on Horror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal faces a monstrous foe.

A whisper reached him in the dark, no more than a breath curling out of the shadows. It called his name.

“ _Hannibal_ …”

He tried to sit up, but found himself held fast. He struggled, but could not move. He remembered Will describing to him the experience of sleep paralysis. Was that what he felt now?

Again, the whisper came, insidiously gleeful. “I have you just where I want you, _Hannibal_ …”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. He cast his gaze about, but found only blackness, as utterly complete as if he possessed no eyes at all.

“This is just the beginning,” said the whispering demon. “Oh, the delights I have planned for you.”

Why was he afraid? Why did his pulse quicken so? Perhaps it was the faint tint of familiarity in that incessant susurration. It coiled around the inner workings of his ears and crept into his mind as no other voice could.

“Will? Is that you?”

“I’m going to feed you, Hannibal,” the voice said, becoming more like Will’s as his own realization coalesced. “I’m going to serve horror upon your plate, and laugh as it roils in your belly.”

“No!”

“Oh yes,” the voice said with a low, dry laugh. “We’re going to start with…a pilaf of instant rice and canned mushroom soup. Oh and Hannibal? The soup is store brand…totally generic…ha ha ha!”

Hannibal’s heart lashed against his sternum. “NO!!!”

Suddenly, a light flicked on beside him, nearly blinding him with its relative brightness. He blinked at his surroundings, the familiar cramped quarters beneath the deck of his boat.

Will sat heavily on the edge of the bed and reached out to ruffle Hannibal’s hair. “Seriously, though. Wake up and get your butt out of bed. Dinner’ll be ready in five minutes.”

Hannibal choked back a sob. “It was all a nightmare. Only a nightmare, right, Will?”

“Yes, Hannibal,” Will said, and leaned down to kiss his brow. As he got up off the bed, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “But hurry up…or the Velveeta will start to congeal.”

Hannibal screamed, but could not hear the sound of his own agony over that culinary demon’s peals of malicious laughter…


	3. Pumpkin Crack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combining pumpkin and crack for a holiday treat!

“He’s eating them,” Will suddenly realized. A wave of nausea washed over him. “Garrett Jacob Hobbs is eating the pumpkins right out of the pumpkin patch.”

Jack Crawford sighed. “Crazy sonofabitch is a pumpkin eater??”

“I don’t know that he’s crazy,” Will said. “I mean, crazy for pumpkins, yes, but not in other ways.”

“Well, we’d better call in an extra consultant,” Jack said. “We need another psychological profile.”

*****

Will sat down next to the handsome stranger in Jack’s office. He was a psychiatrist, but Will tried not to hold it against him right off the bat because he’d brought fresh coffee.

“What brew is this?” Will asked. “It’s delicious.”

“Cinnamon spice,” the doctor said. 

“I didn’t catch your name,” Will said.

The doctor extended his hand. “It’s Humpkin. Dr. Humpkin Eater.”

“What an unusual name,” Will noted, and thought nothing else of it until the doctor framed him two months later for being a pumpkin eater.


	4. Skanky Costumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal wants Will to dress up for Halloween.

“Where’s the rest of it?” Will asked as he picked through the elegantly wrapped box. “Hannibal, where’s the rest of this costume? Did you leave it at the counter or something?”

“It’s all there,” Hannibal said. “I watched the shop clerk wrap it myself.”

Will gawped at him and flailed helplessly. “This…this isn’t a costume, Hannibal! This is public _indecency_!”

“The party will be indoors,” Hannibal assured him. “You can wear a coat until we’re inside, if it makes you more comfortable.”

Will snorted. “I can’t imagine _why_ I’d feel uncomfortable parading around as some kind of pornographic monster.”

Hannibal tutted at him. “The correct term is ‘Sexy Wendigo,’ Will.”

Will sighed as he looked down at the contents of the box—the _entire_ contents of the box. There was a black patent pouch that looked entirely too small to contain his cock and balls, and a matching mask with antlers. The pouch didn’t even have strings to tie around his hips.

“Do I at least get to wear shoes with this travesty?” he asked.

“Of course,” Hannibal said, producing a pair of thigh-high patent boots.


	5. Together Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past didn't die.

Will became aware of two things at once: the first thing was that his head hurt like hell, and the second was that he couldn’t move his arms. When he forced his eyes open, his vision was blurry. He remembered his coffee tasting unusually bitter. He remembered falling backward onto the tile floor.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” a man said behind him. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

 _That voice._ “Matthew? Matthew Brown?” His voice cracked when he spoke, dry as an autumn leaf.

Matthew came around in front of him and dropped to his knees. “You remembered me,” he said, melodramatically clutching his hands over his heart.

Will looked down at himself, then around the room. He was tied to one of the kitchen chairs by his wrists and ankles. He was still home. Matthew Brown was still alive.

“It took me so long to find you,” Matthew said. His expression was as worshipful as the day they’d met. “I wasn’t sure you’d even remember me.”

“But…how? Jack Crawford killed you.”

“True,” Matthew said, then gave Will a mischievous smile. “But unbeknownst to him and the coroner, I was already dead. Well, _undead_ would be more accurate, I suppose.”

From that smile, his canine teeth grew long and sharp, glinting like bone blades in the bit of sunset that filtered in through the window.

Matthew ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. “You know, back then, not all of Lecter’s blood went down the _drain_.”

Hearing Hannibal’s name lit a spark of hope in him. He would be home soon. Hannibal would find him. He just needed time.

“Matthew, please,” Will begged. “Just tell me how this is all possible. _Please_.”

Matthew ignored his stalling tactic. “I just wish I’d found you sooner,” he said with a heavy sigh. “You were just so… _beautiful_ …when we met. Luckily, I’m not a shallow guy, so I’m still happy to have you like this, scars and gray hairs and all.”

Those teeth—those _fangs_ —grew even longer as Matthew got slowly to his feet.

“Wh–what do you mean?” Will asked. “Matthew—don’t do anything—”

Matthew slid into his lap and draped one arm over his shoulder, familiar as an old lover. His other hand came up to grip Will’s jaw and turn his head to expose his neck.

“Don’t—”

“Sh, sh, it’ll be over in a minute,” Matthew said, breath unnaturally cold against the flesh of his throat. “And then we’ll be together, forever.”

Will screamed Hannibal’s name as the vampire’s fangs bit deep.


End file.
